THIS IS THE BLOG OF THE HUMAN DOG.
THIS IS IMPORTANT EVIDENCE OF THE END OF THE WORLD.
ALSO THE OCCASIONAL RECIPE.
THANK YOU.
The last Supercuts Beauty Parlor and Haircut Center was burned to the ground last night. The citizens had had enough. Count me in.
Their discount hair fashioning, coupon books and promises of personal reinvention were enough to make a mother wretch.
I’ve never been so uncomfortable with a stranger touching my head as I was when I got my head shave there for the last 18 years.
Good riddance.
Name your favorite house plant Howard and keep it separate from the other plants.
Keep the name to yourself. When your family asks why you’re out of work and why you arrange your plants this way, say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I will now go sit in the attic.”
The next time you have visitors, hang up a sheet hiding the plants. Distract your company with the pool table in the basement.
Under no circumstances tell them the names you’ve given to the furniture.
Remain calm. Await further instruction.
With the warmer weather comes many dilemmas. While some concern themselves with deciding the appropriate time to begin grilling meats in public, I have larger concerns. Inside my freezer sits the head of a winter snowman. Charcoal eyes, carrot nose, jolly disposition, the whole deal. I found him, or his head, back in January sprawled out on the sidewalk by some older kids with too much free time. He was dazed but still alive. His body, however, had been thoroughly smashed. Lacking the knowledge to construct a snowman body myself, I scooped up his head and ran home. It took him a long time to come around. I was grateful because for the first few days I panicked and had set him inside one of those styrofoam coolers and dumped leftover soft drink ice on him every few hours (what do I know...
Why all the hushed excitement and bulging necks?
Tonight is this town's favorite night of the year. May 11 is when all good, red-blooded Michiganders gather in the middle of the busiest road and burn their snowsuits. Separate coats and snowpants are not allowed. Only one-piece, ugly-colored, humiliating, adult-sized snowsuits will be burned in front of God tonight.
Doing so will please our Lord and stave off Winter's bite later this year when the majority of us are left naked, shivering and suddenly illiterate under the first snowfall.
The city has begun using that new invisible paint on abandoned and foreclosed properties. They cover a house very quickly. As it dries, the structure vanishes, leaving only a stained, concrete slab and whatever children’s toys were left in the yard visible.
Then the town historian comes by with her camera and snaps photos for the postcard rack at the library.
Billy Goat Maze
COURTESY: PrintActivities.com
There’s a lot of truth in what you’re about to read. I’ve only got one wheel barrel. One. And right now, instead of being available and ready for use, it is sitting in the front yard, filled with four inches of gray-brown muck water. Floating in this mess is an extremely detailed diorama depicting one if the lesser-known, but crucial, naval battles of the civil war, The Battle of Central Indiana (see Ken Burns, tapes 7 & 8). Little ships, little armaments, little canons and little tents for the little wounded. Who are all insects by the way. Dead, pinned up little bugs. Most of them are mill bugs and soap worms, nothing exciting. No praying mantis or caterpillar. They cheaped out on the bugs. Spent big money on their costumes, each custom tailored for multiple legs...
... Cookie Monster has eaten a telephone.
OB(S)AMA from wreckandsalvage on Vimeo.
The roller skates have no key. The yellow tub is bleeding. The crayons have all lined up for more.Somewhere an asparagus cries. That most hated of vegetable. It’s time for the toasters to earn their keep. And they must do so right in front of everyone.
Save it or spend it, that’s what I know to be true.
